


Survival

by pattimajor



Series: Spider the Service Dog [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Autism, Autism Service Dog, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Peter Parker, College, College Student Peter Parker, Disability, Disabled Character, Dogs, Gen, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has Anxiety, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Psychiatric Service Dog, Service Animals, Service Dogs, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pattimajor/pseuds/pattimajor
Summary: Peter is in college, and it's really hard. He can't remember the last time he went to class and didn't have a panic attack (or several). If that ever happened at all. Simply surviving is so difficult, Peter isn't sure if thriving is even possible. Until a golden retriever on the internet catches his attention.
Series: Spider the Service Dog [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026165
Comments: 16
Kudos: 237





	1. College = Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning, see end notes for details.

Peter forced himself to get out of the car, despite every instinct screaming at him not to.

_It’s just college. I’m not in danger. Why do I feel like the world is about to fall apart?_

As Happy drove away, Peter had the now-familiar urge to chase the car and beg Happy to take him home.

_No no no no nonono don’t go don't go!_

Somehow, he managed to keep his terror completely hidden, walking into the building completely unnoticed. Like he always did. But it hurt.

As his terrified brain caught up with the fact that Happy had driven away, it turned to the next best option: collapsing in the middle of the hallway and crying. Peter buried that reaction too.

_All I have to do is get through class, then I can go home._

Avengers Tower had become the only place where Peter’s anxiety-riddled brain felt safe anymore. He didn’t know what to do. He kept his outward composure purely through desperation; the idea that if any strangers notice his distress, it’ll get worse.

_Stranger danger. Stranger danger. Stranger danger._

Peter walked into the classroom, making a beeline to his seat in the back corner. He’d chosen that spot on the first day of class because it let him see everyone at all times, and kept him away from the center of attention. He could quietly panic and stim in the back corner without anyone noticing.

_I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home._

...

That evening, safe in his bedroom at Avengers Tower, Peter realized he’d experienced nothing but fear in public for so long, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not be afraid. When he thought about the future, the ideas that felt the most unrealistic were the ones where he could do things independently, without fear. The ones where he felt safe at school or work or wherever. The ones where he thrived. They didn’t feel possible.

The ones that _did_ feel possible were never thought about for long, because they’re scary. They involve the same distress as his everyday life. When his highest hopes for each day are only surviving. The same fear, forever.

Peter _knew_ he was physically safe. He _knew_ he always survived, and he would continue to. But, the idea of thriving was foreign to him. He didn’t know if it was really possible for him, though Tony and his therapist always assured him it was. He trusted them, but he didn’t believe them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter is centered around Peter having a panic attack at college. Peter's lack of hope for the future is also described in moderate detail.


	2. Weekend

It was finally the weekend! The relief Peter always felt when the few days off arrived was unreal. Sometimes as extreme as a physical sensation comparable to the weight of a building being lifted off his body. (He would know; he’s had a building dropped on him before.)

After spending an entire morning doing nothing but reading in bed, safely curled up under his weighted blanket, Peter finally became restless enough to need more for his brain to engage with. He considered going down to Tony’s lab, but sudden memories of the revelation he’d made earlier in the week had him reaching for his phone instead. He hoped Google could help him figure out a way for what Tony and his therapist always told him to be true; that it was possible for him to thrive one day, instead of this perpetual fight-or-flight response he was living.

After a few hours of searching and coming up with nothing but articles explaining positive self-talk and breathing exercises, things that had never made much of a difference to him, he decided to look at dog pictures for a while to lighten his mood. He came across a video of a golden retriever meeting a character at Disney World, and noticed it was wearing a vest. “Autism Service Dog” was written on the vest, and his attention locked on.

_ I’m autistic, _ he thought,  _ This person is like me, and they have a dog to help. What do service dogs do for that? _

Hours of research later, Peter believed Tony and his therapist more than he ever had. Thriving was possible with the right help, and he might have just found it…


	3. A Good Dream

Peter continued researching for almost 2 months before he brought up the topic to anyone else. This was a big thing, and he wanted to be absolutely sure of what it entailed before bringing other people into the decision.

Finally, he decided he had enough information to bring it up to his therapist.

The night before his appointment, he dreamed of the golden retriever he’d seen in that video months ago. He dreamed that the service dog was his. He dreamed of going to his classes and being able to engage, make friends, and learn efficiently. He dreamed that the dog jumped into his lap every time he started to spiral. He dreamed that he never got bad enough to seriously consider crawling under his desk and hiding.

Peter woke up with the perfect excuse to bring up the topic. Good dreams were few and far between, and he’d just had the most realistic good dream of his life.

...

When he reached the last point on his list of therapy notes, Peter squished the putty in his hands a bit more frantically. He was nervous to bring up such a big topic, but he knew it would never become reality unless he did.

“So, I… I had this dream last night…” Peter hesitated.

“Another nightmare?” his therapist asked. Peter couldn’t remember her name; he’d always been bad at names.

He shook his head. “No, a good dream this time. It… it was nice,” he took a deep breath, “So, I saw this video a few months ago, of a service dog. An autism service dog. I dreamed about that dog, and all the ways service dogs help autistic people. In the dream, the dog was helping me. And it felt so real! I was at school, but I wasn’t panicking! I was calm! And every time I started to get nervous, the dog interrupted it and helped me so I didn’t spiral.”

“That sounds like a nice dream.”

“Yeah,” Peter stared at the putty, too nervous to even fake eye contact. “I… I’ve been researching stuff like that. Especially service dogs, since I saw that video. I think… I think something like that might help me.”

His therapist scribbled in her notebook. “I’ve worked with some veterans who have service dogs to help with panic attacks. They have similar struggles to yours, but I didn’t make the connection until now. I guess your different diagnoses kept me from noticing the similarities.”

Peter looked up.

“Their dogs do things like standing between them and other people and laying on them to simulate a weighted blanket effect. I’ve even heard of some that can find exits to help them get out of stressful situations.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, isn’t it cool! I’ve seen some online that can even notice signs of anxiety  _ before  _ it becomes a panic attack!” He let go of the putty with one hand to flap, excited that he could finally talk about this new interest.

“It is cool. I think a lot of these things would be helpful to you. I wonder what the process is to get a service dog?”

Peter paused. That hadn’t even crossed his mind to research. “I don’t know. Something to look into, I guess.”


	4. Talking to Tony

Peter stimmed anxiously as he ate his dinner. Tony and Pepper sat around him, talking about some Stark Industries meeting they’d been to that day. Slowly, the conversation died down, and Pepper walked away for a phone call.

Now alone with the person he wanted to talk to, Peter spoke, “Hey, Tony?”

Tony looked up from his pizza. “Yeah, Peter?”

“Um… would you mind coming with me to my next therapy appointment? There’s something I want to talk about but I think it’ll make more sense if she helps.”

Peter rubbed his hands together, trying to release some of the anxious energy.

“Sure, kid. You know you can tell me anything, but if you feel more comfortable talking that way, that’s what we’ll do,” Tony said.

Peter smiled, “Thanks!”

…

Peter spent all his free time on research, trying to figure out the process of getting a service dog so he could explain it.

It was pretty clear, straight from the law itself, that the Google results of a dozen different “service dog registrations” were not official or required. Many informational videos by service dog handlers confirmed that.

Those same videos all seemed to suggest 2 options for getting a service dog: getting a dog from a program or training your own dog. Getting a dog from a program seemed to be the easiest route, even if it was a lengthy process, so Peter looked into that first.

Peter researched programs for hours. He couldn’t seem to find any that trained for his needs. Almost no programs trained autism service dogs, and the ones that did often only trained tether dogs for young children. He tried looking for psychiatric service dog programs instead, but there were even fewer of those. Still, he compiled a small list of programs that might offer what he needed.

…

Peter squished the putty between his hands as his therapist opened the door to invite Tony in. They’d had the first half of their session as normal and discussed the coming conversation. Peter had asked her to introduce the topic for him.

Tony walked in and sat in the extra chair, left of Peter in the beanbag. His therapist sat on the couch across from them both.

“Peter and I have been discussing potential long-term treatment options to help him gain independence and reduce the effects of his symptoms,” Peter’s therapist began, “An option that I believe may be very helpful to Peter is a service dog.

“Service dogs are trained to perform tasks to assist someone with a disability. In Peter’s case, a service dog could be trained to interrupt early signs of a panic attack, lead him to exits, apply pressure like a weighted blanket to help him calm down, and decrease anxiety in general by standing between him and strangers.

“Because they’re medically necessary accommodations, service dogs can be brought pretty much anywhere the general public can go. So, the dog would be able to go with Peter to his college classes and public places to help him.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was Peter frantically squishing his putty.

“Very interesting. I haven’t heard of service dogs for things like that before, but it does sound like it would help,” Tony said.

Peter’s hands slowed.

“How would it work?”

Peter spoke up, “I’ve been researching that. It seems like the best way would be to get a dog from a program that trains them professionally. It’s hard to find programs that train for autism, though. I found a few that we could look into, but if they don’t work out, the other option is training a dog ourselves.”

“Alright. We’ll look into it, and talk to Pepper about it. There’s no way we’re bringing a dog into the tower without her knowing about it,” Tony joked. “Don’t worry, Peter, she loves dogs.” Tony stood up, “Thank you for talking with us, Holly.”

The adults shook hands while Peter drilled into his mind, _Holly. Holly. Her name is Holly._

“I’ll see you next week, Peter.”

“See you next week,” he responded as they left.


	5. Autism Acceptance Month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning, see end notes for more info.

Peter walked into the kitchen for breakfast on April 1st to find a bright red gift bag sitting on the table in his spot.

Tony looked over from the coffee machine, “Good morning, Peter!”

“Morning,” Peter replied, “What’s that?” He pointed at the bag.

“It’s for you. Go ahead and open it.”

Peter approached the bag warily. “Is it for April Fools? I don’t really like that holiday, Tony.”

Tony walked over, full coffee mug in hand. “Oh! No, it’s not that, don’t worry.”

“What is it then?” Peter asked.

“It’s… more celebrating the month than the day.”

Peter tilted his head, confused, before turning back to the bag. He tentatively pulled a red envelope out. It read, “To Peter, From Tony and Pepper.”

No clues there. He opened the envelope. The card inside read, “Happy Autism Acceptance Month! We hope you enjoy this little gift! #redinstead!”

“You guys know about acceptance month?” Peter asked enthusiastically.

Tony nodded, “Yep! I saw some posts going around online and thought it could be a fun celebration for us.”

Peter laughed and reached back into the bag. His hand hit something soft, and he pulled out an Iron Man plushie.

“Wow! This is so cool! And it’s soft like my hoodie! Thank you, Tony!” Peter said.

“It’s weighted, too. I know you really like your weighted blanket, so I thought it might help to have something weighted that you can take with you,” Tony said.

“That’s awesome! Thank you!”

…

Peter contemplated putting the Iron Man plushie in his backpack for the day. Then he remembered the time he tried that with a cat plushie in middle school and a bully had stolen it and thrown it in the mud. That cat had never been soft again. He gently placed the Iron Man plushie on his bed and wrapped a red blanket around it for protection instead.

He turned to his closet and stared at the autistic-themed pins he’d bought a while back and never worn. He pulled on his favorite hoodie, a soft red one Ned had given him for his birthday, and swung his backpack onto his shoulders. Feeling brave, he grabbed the #ActuallyAutistic and #RedInstead pins and hooked them into his backpack straps.

…

Peter noticed a new poster on the door of his classroom. He saw the blue puzzle piece logo of Autism Speaks and frowned.

 _Please let_ this _be the April Fools joke. It’s not a good joke, but that would at least be better than it being real._

He went to his seat in the corner and texted Ned, _A$ poster on classroom door today… hoping it’s an april fools joke._

Despite also being in class, Ned texted back almost immediately, _oh no I hope you're right._

Peter’s minimal hope was crushed when the professor walked in wearing a blue shirt that said, “I love someone with autism,” and a blue puzzle piece necklace. As she started talking to the class about how it’s autism awareness month and she wants to spread awareness for her son with severe autism, Peter texted Ned, _no luck. Prof is wearing blue and talking about her “son with severe autism.”_

Ned replied, _that sucks dude. crazy how so many people still don't understand._

Peter sat quietly for a while, listening to the professor talking as if autistic people are so rare that there couldn’t possibly be one in her class hearing all the horrible things she’s saying. Even while actually teaching, she was inserting scornful comments about how high functioning adults are so rude for speaking out against compliance-based therapies that help her poor low functioning son. Suddenly, Peter had a realization.

He texted Ned again, _Dude I’m wearing my autistic pins! What do I do?? What if she sees them??_

_Umm idk. Does she seem like the kind of person who would single u out for that sort of thing?_

_Ned, what do I do?? Is it more obvious if I try to take them off in class or just leave them on and hope no one sees???_

_Peter its ok, the worst that can happen is she’ll see them and talk about it a bit and then u can educate if u want or just ignore her._

_I can’t just ignore my teacher?? What if I get in trouble??_ Peter’s skin felt too tight. He rubbed his arms, trying to stop the itchy feeling.

_Peter calm down, they're just pins. Its not high school anymore theres no dress code or rules about that sort of thing. ur safe._

_But she might see them and get mad! Ned what do I do??_

_Peter its ok. umm what was that thing u told me about? with the 54321? u should try to do that 54321 thing._

Peter knew that sounded familiar, but he couldn’t remember how to do it. _Idk how, Ned help._ Then he became aware of a wet feeling on his fingers. He looked down and saw he was scratching his wrists so hard they were bleeding. _Oh no Ned my arms are bleeding what do I do??_

_Bleeding? what happened? Dude ur scaring me._

_Help?_

_Oh right uh… are u still in class? u should go to the bathroom._

_I don't want to raise my hand! Someone will notice!_

_Peter its college you dont have to ask to go to the bathroom anymore just get up and leave._

Peter hesitated. He felt shaky and like the room might be rocking. Or maybe that’s just him rocking. He looked at his bloody wrists again and realized he couldn’t just sit there for an hour trying not to bleed on anything. He grabbed his backpack and walked out the door without a word or glance at his teacher.

Peter counted his breathing as he searched for the bathroom.

_Where is it? I really should’ve found this beforehand to be prepared!_

Finally, he saw it and rushed into a stall.

He texted Ned, _I made it. Mental note: find bathrooms before emergencies happen._

_Dude are u ok??_

Peter rolled up his hoodie sleeves, careful to not get too much blood on them. The scratches were already starting to scab. Or maybe he just took that long to find the bathroom, Peter wasn’t sure.

_Yeah I'm ok. What do I do now tho? Class is on the other side of the building and it's already 2 somehow._

_I guess just rinse your arms off so they’re clean and wait for Happy. don't worry about going back to class today theres only 10 minutes left._

_Ok. sorry for scaring you. thanks Ned._

…

Peter bounced his leg, feeling very awkward and uncomfortable, as Tony gently cleaned the already-healing scratches on his wrists. Tony finally turned the sink off and sat next to him.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Tony asked quietly.

Peter sat quietly for a minute, trying to put words in order to explain.

“You don’t have to if it’s too uncomfortable right now-”

“The teacher was- sorry!” Peter squeaked, realizing too late that Tony was talking.

“No, it’s ok. Go ahead.”

“Um… The teacher was… So there was a poster on the door today, of Autism Speaks. And the teacher came in wearing all blue and she spent half the class period talking about how horrible autism is. And I was wearing my autistic pins today because I felt so good this morning but I panicked and thought she would get mad at me. I didn’t even realize I was scratching until I felt the blood and I got even more scared so I texted Ned and he said to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t find a bathroom until the other end of the building so there wasn’t time to go back to class. I’m- I’m sorry, Tony, I didn’t mean to hurt myself and skip class!” Peter felt like he was about to cry.

“It’s ok, Peter, it’s ok. I’d rather you skip class to take care of yourself if you need to.” The first tear escaped Peter’s eyes. “Do you want a hug?”

Peter dove into Tony’s arms, bawling. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t hurt myself on purpose, I promise! I’m sorry!”

“Shh, shh, it’s ok, Peter, It’s ok, shh…”

…

Peter was cocooned in his many blankets, hugging the Iron Man plushie tight and reading on his phone. He poked his head out of his blanket nest when he heard a knock on the door.

“Hey kiddo, it’s Tony. Can I come in? I have your hoodie, and it’s clean now.”

Peter didn’t feel quite up for words, so he let out a squeaking sound and held out a thumbs up for Jarvis to see in case Tony didn’t understand.

“Is that a yes or a no?” he heard Tony ask.

“Peter appears to be giving you a thumbs-up, sir,” Jarvis said.

“Alright, thanks J,” Tony said, “I’m coming in, Peter.”

The door opened. Tony approached the bed, holding Peter’s favorite hoodie. Peter waved.

“Are you feeling better?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded, reaching out to take the hoodie. He felt the sleeves carefully, relieved to find that it was still as soft as before. He flapped a hand happily, letting out another squeak.

“I’m glad. Do you want to take the rest of the day to rest?”

Peter squeaked again, retreating back under his blanket fortress.

Tony laughed, “Ok, see you later, buddy.”

…

Peter looked up from his breakfast the next day to see Tony in an all-red suit.

“What are you doing?” he laughed.

Tony smiled at him, “It’s my red-instead suit! I can’t just go to a meeting in April without representing the cause, can I?”

“I mean, you could, but I’m glad you’re not,” Peter said.

…

Peter was scrolling through social media when he saw a post on Tony’s page. It was a selfie of him and Pepper, both wearing red, captioned “One day, the whole world will go #redinstead for April.” He smiled and kept scrolling. Then he saw another post, this time from the official Stark Industries page, with the same picture. This one was captioned “Stark Industries goes #redinstead for Autism Acceptance Month!”

As Peter scrolled through all the autism advocacy pages posting about Stark Industries being the biggest company they’ve ever seen supporting the voices of actual autistics, he felt like maybe there really is hope. Maybe one day, there will be no more blue puzzle pieces and neurotypicals speaking over autistic experiences. Maybe one day, there really will be acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: unintentional self harm/self-destructive stimming resulting in bleeding during a panic attack. Warning starts at "I can’t just ignore my teacher?? What if I get in trouble??" Warning is over at "Peter was cocooned in his many blankets,"


	6. First Day of Summer Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger warning, see end notes for details.

Peter clicked the submit button. Sat for a few minutes.

_ This doesn’t feel real. Am I really done? Is that really possible? _

Just to be sure, he checked the pages for each of his classes. Again. For probably the 8th time that day.

_ I’m… done. I’m done. I’m done! I did it! _

Peter squeaked in glee and jumped up from his desk. He ran to the workshop, where Tony was working on Stark Industries things.

“Whoa! What’s got you so bouncy, kid?” Tony exclaimed as Peter literally bounced in place, flapping his hands in happiness.

“I’m done! I did it! Happy Summer Break!!” Peter squealed.

“Yes! You did it, buddy! We should celebrate. Do you want cake or cookies?” Tony lifted his hand for a high five.

“Cookies!” Peter decided, jumping up for the high five like he used to when he was younger and too short to reach adults’ hands.

…

Peter was shaking. The crushing dread of knowing he’ll have to return to college in just a month for the summer semester filled him with terror. He wished, not for the first time, that he could drop out. But that wasn’t possible for the career he wanted.

Despite already having more credits than his peers due to taking community college courses in high school, Peter needed 30 credit hours per semester to be considered a full time student. He hadn’t been able to cope with 15 per semester; he had barely managed 12. So he had to take summer classes. There was no choice in the matter.

Tears pricked the back of his eyes at the thought. Every adult he knew has always told him college is better than normal school. But they were wrong. This is so much worse.

Beyond such high workloads and the overwhelming presence of unpredictable strangers, college didn’t even have a full summer break. The only thing that kept him going through all his school years was no longer there to look forward to. Peter didn’t know what to do.

He held himself perfectly still, not wanting to worry Tony. He should’ve known the lack of casual stimming would draw his attention anyway.

“You ok, Peter?” Tony asked.

Peter flinched, not expecting the question. He opened his mouth to speak, to say ‘I’m fine’ or maybe try to explain. But nothing came out. His brain wouldn’t produce words. Just the painful swirls of danger and fear. The sensation that there was a threat and he needed to get away. But he couldn’t find the words to describe it.

_ Shoot. Not again, _ Peter thought.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the block between his brain and mouth. The tears pricking in his eyes threatened to spill out.

_ Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry! _

Tony gently grabbed his hand, rubbing his thumb across Peter’s knuckles in an attempt to soothe him.

Peter took a shaky breath, leaned into Tony, let out the tiniest whimper.

And that opened the floodgates.

Peter bawled into Tony’s side, desperate for safety and comfort among the chaos that is his brain. Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, holding him close.

“It’s alright, Pete. You’re safe. I promise. It’s alright.”

“I don’t want to go back!” Peter wailed, “I can’t do it! Please don’t make me go back!”

…

Peter squished the putty in his hands, sorting through words in his head. Holly, his therapist, waited patiently as always.

“I saw an old friend post on social media the other day. It’s been a year since they graduated high school and they’re apparently enjoying college a lot,” Peter paused, “It made me feel sad. And alone. Like I’m the only one suffering.

“I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’ve been on the edge of breaking for years; what if I reach a point and just collapse? Especially without a full summer break… the future just feels like a black hole of never-ending pain and misery. I don’t think I can take much more of that. I don’t know what to do.”

Holly hummed, “You’re not the only one, I can promise you that, but I know it feels like it sometimes. We’ll keep looking into strategies to help you. Maybe different accommodations next semester would make things easier. And your service dog, eventually.”

She took a deep breath, “Peter, with the way you’re describing the future, I have to ask-”

Peter suddenly realized what she must be thinking.

“No! No, I’m not… thinking about bad stuff like that. That’s never an option.” He shuddered at the memories that topic brought up, then shoved them to the back of his mind. He does  _ not  _ need a flashback right now, thank you very much.

“Good. If you ever do, know you can talk to me about it. It’s my job to help you.”

Peter nodded quickly, trying to think of a way to make the topic change.

“So, um, I was reading this book…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack, discussion implying suicidal thoughts and lack of hope for the future
> 
> Author's Note:  
> So, this chapter has basically been my day, minus the cookies and therapy session. Existential dread is great! (/sarcasm) Theoretically Peter could totally drop out and Tony would be more than happy to support him financially and all that, but it's really therapeutic to put fictional characters through my problems and make them eventually have a happy ending.


	7. Dog Trainers and Peter's Birthday

Peter walked into the kitchen, rubbing the fuzzy sleeves of his red hoodie.

“Good morning, Pete!” Tony greeted.

“Good morning.”

“I’m making bacon this morning. Want some?”

Peter smiled, “I know; I smelled it. Yes, please.”

Peter scrolled through his phone notifications as he ate, pausing when he saw an email from the fourth service dog program he’d contacted. He carefully read the email, sighing in disappointment when he finished.

Tony noticed. “What’s up, kid? You hear back from the program yet?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, “This one can’t train guide to exit or momentum pull either. And their wait lists average 4 years. All the guide programs won’t train for autism and all the autism programs rarely train for adults, much less with guide tasks.”

“Sorry, Peter. I know you were really hoping that one would work out.”

Peter grabbed another piece of bacon from the plate in the middle of the table. “I’ve started just looking at dog trainers in the area; see if any of them offer service dog classes to help owner-trainers. I’ve already learned a ton about dog training over the past months. I think maybe owner-training could work if I had help.”

Tony smiled, “Alright. I’ll keep looking too. Between the two of us, surely we’ll find something.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

…

Peter listened carefully to the suspicious silence in the kitchen the morning of his 19th birthday. Tony was _never_ that quiet, even before his morning coffee. After a few minutes, he heard the distinct sound of wrapping paper moving, followed quickly by a “shh!” that had definitely come from Tony.

Peter smiled and walked into the kitchen. He was greeted immediately by a chorus of “Happy Birthday Peter!” from the large group of Avengers waiting for him.

On the kitchen table was several plates of chocolate chip cookies, Peter’s favorite. A mass of birthday-themed wrapping paper, presumably covering gifts, was stacked against the far wall.

Peter happily accepted hugs and high fives from everyone, excitedly thanking them all for coming to celebrate. Rhodey suggested they eat the cookies while they’re still warm. Peter flapped his hands excitedly at the idea of having cookies for breakfast, then ran to the fridge to retrieve the milk.

After a chocolate-filled breakfast and narrowly avoiding a food fight when Steve and Thor tried to have _juice_ with their cookies, (Clint almost chucked his own cookie at them before Rhodey explained the tradition of milk and cookies while Peter frantically lectured Clint on how it wasn’t _remotely_ worth it to waste a homemade cookie in a food fight.) Peter was presented with the most fun part of birthdays: opening presents.

Having been informed of Peter’s newfound obsession with dog training, the gifts from Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Bruce were all books about dog training. Peter squeaked in excitement as each gift grew the stack of books on the table.

Thor, apparently not quite understanding the concept of training, gave Peter a big plush dog. Peter immediately named it Thunder and held it in his lap for the remainder of present opening, often stimming with its soft fur.

He opened Clint’s gift next, tilting his head in confusion at the collar and leash before thanking Clint and buckling the collar around Thunder’s fluffy neck.

Peter began to get suspicious when he opened the treat pouch and small bag of dog treats from Rhodey. Even more so when Pepper’s gift turned out to be a set of dog brushes and nail clippers.

Finally, Tony handed him the last gift. Peter tore open the wrapping paper and opened the cardboard box beneath it. In the box was a red dog harness with patches on either side stating, ‘Service Dog In Training’. Peter pulled the harness out of the box, then noticed a photo hidden at the bottom. He gasped at the black Labrador Retriever puppy staring back at him from the photo.

Tony began his explanation, “I’ve been in contact with a dog trainer experienced with service dogs, and they were evaluating litters for prospects a few weeks ago. They found a puppy they think will be perfect for what you need. She’ll be with the trainer for early socialization until the end of the month, but… this is your dog.”

Peter gaped at Tony for several minutes before the information really processed in his mind. _That’s my dog! I have a dog! That’s my future service dog!_

“Thank you, Tony!” Peter tackled the man with a hug, “Thank you! Thank you!”


	8. Spider Comes Home

Peter bounced with excitement as he and Tony walked into the training facility. It was finally time to bring his dog home! The 5-month-old Labrador Retriever had been with the service dog trainer for 2 months for socialization and basic training foundations. There was still a _very_ long way to go before she would qualify as a service dog, but the process was started, and Peter could not be happier.

Tony had brought him to meet and name the puppy shortly after his 19th birthday. Peter had spent almost an hour playing and cuddling with his puppy, then had a long conversation with the trainer before finally deciding on the name ‘Spider’.

They left Spider with the trainer that day, and all the other days they visited to see how her training was going, but this time Peter would be leaving the training facility with the puppy by his side.

Spider was sitting happily by the trainer’s feet when Peter and Tony walked in.

“Good morning, Tony, Peter,” the trainer said.

“Good morning, Quinn,” Tony replied.

“Good morning! Hi, Spider!” Peter waved. The puppy’s wagging tail thumped against the floor.

“I have Spider’s things packed up for you guys if you’re ready for her,” Quinn told them. Peter eagerly accepted Spider’s leash from them.

While Tony and Quinn put the bowls, dog food, crate, and various other supplies in the car, Peter sat in the grass with Spider and told her all about Avengers Tower.

“…and you’ll love the balcony Tony set up for you. It’s basically a mini dog park! Except it’ll just be us, but maybe we’ll make some dog friends when we come here for training class! Quinn did say there’s a few other handlers my age in our class. And I think MJ’s family has a dog. Oh, and you’ll get to meet Ned and MJ! They’re my best friends! Ned’s been so excited from all the pictures I sent him of you-“

“Peter! You ready to go?” Tony called.

Peter looked up, “Oh yeah! Ready, Spider? Let’s go home!”

…

Peter carefully folded the blanket over Spider’s crate, exactly the same way it’d been at the training facility. “All right, Spi, how’s that? Does it feel like home?”

The black Lab’s tail thumped happily against the ground. Peter had worried that she would be nervous in the Tower for the first time, but Quinn assured him that she was used to going to new places sometimes and would settle in quickly. Spider seemed perfectly content so far, though she’d been a bit confused the first time Peter took her out to the artificial grass on the balcony.

“Go kennel,” Peter told her. Spider walked into the crate, turning around to watch Peter as he scooped dog food into her bowl. “Leave it,” he told her, then set the bowl down in the crate. He reached in to take off her collar, watched for her to look at him instead of the bowl, then, “Free!”

Spider eagerly launched herself at the food. Peter was suddenly very glad Quinn had sent them home with a slow feeder bowl instead of a regular bowl. Spider had the stereotypical Lab food drive and would certainly swallow it all whole without the funny-shaped bowl to slow her down.

Peter shut the crate and walked over to his desk to organize his homework. The idea of going to class still made him shiver with dread, but he felt hopeful now. He had Spider, and she couldn’t come with him yet, but soon she would. Soon, he would have the help he needed. Soon, he wouldn’t just be surviving, but thriving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was a good conclusion to the story I originally started here, so "Survival" is officially complete. Don't worry, though! Peter and Spider's story is becoming a series, "Spider the Service Dog". The next story in the series is "Spider in Training" and the first chapter is already posted!


End file.
